


No Flying in the Library

by stgulik



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Library, Ministry of Magic, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 02:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11244081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stgulik/pseuds/stgulik
Summary: Hermione Granger maintains the Ministry's library. Draco Malfoy uses the library almost daily and flouts every single one of her rules.





	No Flying in the Library

-o0o-

_MY CAREER_  
A Pros and Cons List  
By Hermione J. Granger, Assistant Librarian 

_PROS  
1.Hidden treasure_

Hermione Granger looked up from at the circulation desk where she was doodling on a spare bit of parchment. Her favorite moment of any day was whenever she had time to stop and admire the dark-wood beauty of the Ministry of Magic’s three-story library. Skylights punctuating the domed ceiling. Annexes on the upper levels were devoted to every magical discipline and historical time period. The books in the Ministry library rivaled even Hogwarts’ own for sheer depth of knowledge. Any bibliophile should be pleased to work here. 

But those bibliophiles did not have a Cons list as lengthy as hers.

_CONS  
1\. Certain people’s attitudes _

Namely, her boss. Few wizards were as concerned with the purity of magical blood as the head librarian, Cyrus Faulkner. If she had not been personally recommended for this position by Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister of Magic, Hermione knew she would be stuck mending books in some cupboard down in Magical Preservation, rather than managing this whole library with the title Assistant Librarian. Not that the position came with a decent salary. 

_2\. The pay_

Nor could she hire permanent support staff.

_3\. The help_

And finally, the worst problem on her Cons list ...

“Granger! Where the hell is my _Ingentibus_? I told you yesterday to leave it on the table!”

_4\. The ferret_

She frowned at the bane of her existence, putting a finger to her lips. Draco Malfoy scowled in return and theatrically indicated the empty library table he had long ago established as his own. “My book is gone again!” he yelled. 

A few patrons cleared their throats meaningfully at the noise. Hermione came round the desk and hurried to the reading area. “Malfoy, for goodness’ sake,” she hissed. “No talking above a whisper! How many times must I tell you? People are trying to study.” 

“If you wouldn’t keep moving my _books_ , I wouldn’t have to interrupt anybody’s precious _study_.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Come with me.” She took his arm and dragged him through the library and up a circular staircase. When they reached the Arithmancy annex, she gestured toward his book. “Here it is. _Magicis Doctrina_ by Frederick Ingentibus, right where it _always_ is, right beside the _other_ books in your discipline. Books are reshelved every night, Malfoy. It’s a rule. Just like _being quiet_ is a rule.”

He pulled Ingentibus and, with a smirk, clattered back down the stairs to his table. She stared after him. Now what the hell was that about? Not for the first time, she wondered whether he was as temperamental as he seemed, or if he just liked to trick her into losing her cool. How did he always manage to get under her skin this way? 

Too agitated to return to her desk, Hermione skulked about the library stacks for the next hour, growling at any patron who dared speak above a whisper.

-o0o-

Faulkner, the head librarian, wrapped up his daily briefing at the circulation desk with the same words he used every time. “Now, do you need me to explain any of this to you?” 

She bit back a sigh. “No, sir,” she replied evenly.

“It’s just that you’re not taking notes,” he said doubtfully. 

“Mr. Faulkner, these are the same tasks as every day. I assure you, I can remember.”

“Hmmph. Well, best be about it, then,” he said at last. “Oh, and Miss Granger, see to that house-elf.”

Hermione blinked. That _was_ out of the ordinary. “Sir?”

“House-elf, house-elf! Are you blind as well as--” He cut off whatever he had been about to say. “Right up there. See to it.” Faulkner turned and swept out the double doors of the library. Hermione knew he would not return until the next morning, when he would once again condescend to instruct her how to do her own job. 

When Hermione went upstairs, she indeed found a busy little house-elf in the Arithmancy annex, wobbling about with a stack of books that had to weigh nearly as much as he did. He was wearing a pillowcase bearing the Malfoy crest. She did not want to engage in some futile chase, so she did the next best thing; she found his owner. “Your house-elf has to go,” she informed him brusquely. 

Draco, sitting at his usual table, looked up from his book he was holding. “You mean Gaston? He’s fetching things for me today. Pay him no mind.” 

“I can’t,” she ground out. “House-elves aren’t allowed in the library.” 

At that, he actually set his book down. “Oh, but Granger, I thought you were the original champion of the downtrodden house-elf.” He took no pains to hide his mischievous glee. “And now you’re ordering one out of your sight? As though he were a second-class citizen?”

“Malfoy, just ...” To Hermione’s horror, she felt sudden tears of frustration threaten to burst forth. She crossed her arms and looked away, torn between hexing Draco and simply fleeing the scene. It didn’t help that the house-elf, who had just appeared with a _pop_ upon the table, was gazing at her as though she had hurt his feelings. “Just get him out of here, alright? _Please_.” 

Escaping to the solitude of her office, Hermione wondered why life wasn’t fair. 

-o0o-

Patrons appeared unusually restless when Hermione walked into the reading room three days later. She soon realized why. She hurried to Draco’s table, then looked straight up. “Malfoy, no flying in the library!” she cried.

Draco, balanced on an old broom and with books under one arm, appeared to be levitating more books off of shelves as he circled the dome. 

“Did you hear me, Malfoy? It’s against the rules!”

“You tossed out my house-elf,” he shouted in reply. “Now I’m fetching my own books. I thought you’d be proud of me!”

“And ... are you casting _charms_ up there? At _my books_?”

“You’re yelling, Granger. That’s against the rules, too, you know.” he called down. 

Patrons stood up to leave, slamming books and rustling parchment with passive-aggressive vigor. There would be no peace and quiet today; it appeared the librarian and the resident bad boy were about to have another go of it. 

“Get a room, dearie,” advised an elderly witch. She tottered away, cackling. Hermione’s face flamed. 

-o0o-

The next day was mercifully quieter and Malfoy-free. Hermione had just sent Mrs. Denker from Accounts Irretrievable back to her table with the library’s small collection of Gobstones rule books, when the sound of murmuring voices from a neighboring alcove drew her attention. 

“... here quite a bit these days. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Hermione recognized Faulkner’s voice.

“Oh, a work-related project. Everyone knows time away from the office is well-spent,” came Draco’s reply. Faulkner laughed a bit too heartily at the weak joke. Hermione felt sure he was just trying to flatter the son of an important Ministry official.

“Well,” said Faulkner, “if you ever want a change of scenery, I’m sure we could find a position for you here. How would you feel about about Assistant Librarian?” Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth. Was her odious boss trying to give away _her_ job to Draco Malfoy?

“I’m surprised at you, Faulkner,” drawled Draco. “You don’t know a good thing when you have it. Granger’s perfect for this library.”

“Hmmph. She was foisted on me for political reasons.”

“I’d say she keeps this place humming. Leaves more time for you to tip back a few at the Leaky Cauldron, eh?” There was a certain caustic tone in his voice now. Hermione felt sure he didn’t like Faulkner either.

“Still,” pressed Faulkner, “I’ve never felt right about Granger working here. I don’t care what she did during the war; this is too prestigious a position to be filled by some jumped-up little Mudbl--”

There was a scrambling sound, followed by the loud creak of a chair, and then Faulkner let out an undignified squeak. Next came Draco’s voice, no longer so casual. “I’d think twice before finishing that thought, old boy,” he said. “That attitude has fallen severely out of favor lately. Everyone who’s anyone knows it’s character, not blood, that brings out the best in people.” 

The chair scraped against the tile floor, as though Faulkner had hastily stood up. “You’ve changed, Malfoy,” he said coldly.

“Have I?” Draco’s tone was light once more. “Well, one does one’s best.”

Hermione had just enough time to cast a Disillusionment charm on herself before Faulkner strode by, looking angry and quite red in the face. Hermione took a moment to collect herself before she went looking for Draco, but he had already disappeared.

-o0o-

It was a few days before Hermione caught sight of Draco Malfoy again. Curiosity had bloomed in her heart since the day she had overheard him dress down her boss in the alcoves. She found it interesting, and not a little encouraging, that news of the encounter did not reach her ears from outside sources. She had to assume Draco was not a gossip. Meanwhile, Faulkner had been treating her with a bit more deference. This had not been Draco's stated intention that day, but Hermione credited him anyway. 

So when she ran across Draco in the Restricted Section, sitting at a narrow countertop beneath shelves of ancient, chained books, she gave in to her impulse and approached his table. Draco looked up, and she nearly smiled to see a smudge of ink on his nose. 

“Good afternoon,” said Draco in a neutral tone.

It was on the tip of Hermione’s tongue to thank him for sticking up for Muggleborns—and for her--but to admit to eavesdropping was out of the question. He continued looking at her, waiting. She began to panic. What excuse could she give for standing here like a statue? “Mr. Malfoy, you, erm ...” She pointed to his book. “You’ve dog-eared a page. That’s, you know. Against the rules.” 

He gave a wry smile, treating her remark like the awkward ice-breaker that it was. “Forgive me," he replied. "At least I have not unchained any of the books, as you can see.” He rattled one of the chains to prove his point. 

Emboldened, she returned his smile and sat down beside him. “So you _have_ read the library rules. I was beginning to despair.” 

“When it comes to rules, Slytherins adopt a more tactical approach than most,” said Draco.

Hermione nodded. “While Gryffindors defend rules to the death.” She peered at his notes and tried to decode his crabbed handwriting in the gloom. “What are you working on? I can't believe I've never asked. It looks rather arcane."

“Oh, gods, please don’t ask. It's a work project. Ghastly. I can’t wait to be shut of the whole bloody topic. Studying arithmancy makes me want to behave badly."

She smothered a smile. "Oh, it makes you _want_ to behave badly. Well, you've really suppressed the urge so far. Well done."

"Suffice to say, I expect a fat promotion when my paper is done.”

“I’m sure you’ll get one.” Hermione leaned on the countertop and rested her cheek on her hand so she could regard Draco more carefully. She had another thing to say to him, something that had been weighing on her mind. “Listen, Draco, about the house-elf thing the other day ... I’ve felt terrible about it, and I wish I could apologize. To Gaston, that is,” she added.

“Oh, naturally Gaston,” he agreed with quirk of his brow. “What was wrong? Why did you say that?”

“Because it’s a rule.” Hermione rolled her eyes. “A terrible rule, but a rule. You see, here in the Ministry, house-elves are not permitted to touch books at all. If they ever learned to read, it might give them ideas above their station. It’s an old law from medieval times.” She sighed. “I hate it. I hate everything it stands for. But I’m powerless to change it, being such a low-ranking member of the Ministry, and Faulkner won’t hear of any challenges to the _status quo_.” 

Draco was quiet a moment, and Hermione wondered if he had taken offense at her attitude. What he said next surprised her. “Granger … Hermione … I own two house-elves of my own, you know. Gaston you met. The other is named Brownie. I inherited them a few years ago. 

“You remember Dobby? Erm, well, of course you do. Foolish question.” He looked down at his hands a moment. “After the war, I learned about Dobby’s actions, how he freed you from the mansion and ... and then what my aunt did to him ... Well, after I heard all that, I went to my house-elves and I offered to free them both on the spot.” 

“You never!” said Hermione. “What did they do?”

“They refused me, that’s what they did! They got mortally offended, and they wouldn’t serve me a bite to eat for a month as punishment for my impudence. You have to understand, elves are an old race, with complicated motives and different principles than we have. But,” he held up his hand before Hermione could open her mouth again, “It's important to make an effort to do the best we can for them. We have a responsibility to--” 

“Would you go out with me?” Hermione blurted. 

“Sorry, what?” She was rewarded by the flush of pink to his normally pale features. He became studiously nonchalant, but she was not fooled in the least. “You … Blimey, Hermione Granger asking me out. I ... I will have to check my social calendar, but yes, I believe I’m free. Indefinitely.” 

“Oh, good.” Feeling happier than she had in a very long time, Hermione reached over and gently swiped the ink off Draco’s nose.

-o0o-

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2017 Dramionelove promptfest. Thank you RZZMG for hosting the promptfest. All my love to Teddyradiator, the best alpha in fanfic. Comments welcome!


End file.
